


Harvest Moon

by WrittenByHannah



Series: We Feel By The Moon [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, BAMF!Stiles, Beta Derek, Forced Marriage, Full Moon, Hale House Rebuilt, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Not dead Boyd, Not dead Erica, Pack Dynamics, Post Season 3, Texting, Torture, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenByHannah/pseuds/WrittenByHannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, that one where the world falls to shit over and over again and somewhere in the mix Stiles and Derek fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blackbirds Singing in the Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I just want to announce that this is the Grand Beginning of my first full length Teen Wolf Fanfic, and it is supposed to be a doozy! This is completely unbeta'd, and for the most part typed on my phone, so please excuse any mistakes. Stay tuned for werewolf antics, and I'll see you at the end!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Stiles heard a rustling noise in the woods on his run (the route ran straight behind the Hale property) and bolted over rock and limb to the closest thing he knew to safety; the burnt out shell of Derek’s family home._
> 
>  
> 
> _Except there was one problem: The charred skeleton of the home was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a fully rebuilt, elegant manor standing tall and new in the dreary, brown woods. And parked right in front? The sleek black Camaro that belonged to no other than the Sourwolf himself._
> 
>  
> 
> _This was impossible. _"__
> 
>  

No one had been to the Hale house since Derek had said his goodbyes two months ago. Stiles never actually realized how much time they spent there until they couldn’t go back. None of them had the heart to. They often trailed their eyes after the road leading up to it as they passed, but they never let themselves indulge in the familiar route through the preserve.

That was, until Stiles heard a rustling noise in the woods on his run (the route ran straight behind the Hale property) and bolted over rock and limb to the closest thing he knew to safety; the burnt out shell of Derek’s family home.

Except there was one problem: The charred skeleton of the home was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a fully rebuilt, elegant manor standing tall and new in the dreary, brown woods. And parked right in front? The sleek black Camaro that belonged to no other than the Sourwolf himself.

This was impossible.

An eerie silence had fallen over the clearing; Stiles could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Derek hadn’t texted or called since the day he left. _Why would he_ , Stiles thought to himself. Maybe it would be just his luck that Derek had decided to go grocery shopping or sulking down an unknown trail somewhere in the preserve. Maybe it would be just his luck that Derek wasn’t home. Maybe this was a dream. But the shaking in Stiles’ knees felt all too real.

He took one cautious step forward, trying to be silent, but being himself, failed miserably. He snapped a twig and the tiny sound of breaking echoed through the tree tops, causing a nest of black birds to flee their nest. They soared around, cawing and shrieking in the air. Stiles decided in a split second to go for broke and ran to the house. He bustled up the stairs in a flash taking note of the lack of creaking. He put his hand on the new golden doorknob and froze.

What was he even doing? If Derek was home and wanted to be found, he would have told someone, right? If he wanted Stiles to know, or wanted to see the teenage spaz from his past, surely he would have come in through his bedroom window?

No. Stiles didn’t care. If Derek was here and hadn’t told anyone, he would find out why. He would see his Sourwolf.

Well, no. Not his. The. _The_ Sourwolf. Derek didn’t belong to Stiles, nor did Stiles want him too. He just missed the brooding and rough-edged alpha. Albeit, Derek had given up his alpha status to save his sister. Stiles wondered if he would be different now that he was just a beta.

Stiles still stood frozen on the porch, hand hovering over the doorknob. He sucked in a breath, flicked his wrist, and pushed. There was a heavy thud and the door gave way, opening silently to the foyer of the house. Stiles was gobsmacked. The affect of the house hit him like a Mactruck. It was so beautiful, but it was so empty. It hummed; Stiles thought of bees swarming. Instead, he settled on the idea that it was just the power of the house, of what it stood for, of what it stood upon. 

There was light all through the house from big windows. Stiles could see the difference between what the home used to be, to what it had become in its second life; aside from the obvious remodeling, Derek had built the house in such a way that if there were a fire, anyone left inside could escape.

Stiles heart dropped onto the newly polished mahogany floors. Every step he took felt as solemn as a funeral. He thought all this time that Derek had rebuilt the house so that he could come and live. Perhaps, he built it as some sort of twisted mausoleum. Stiles really hoped that he was wrong. Considering, though, the giant flat screen he saw in the living room as he crept through the house, it seemed more modern and up to date as far as living conditions. Still, Stiles wished he could find Derek already; he was sore from the anxiety rolling off of him in waves of sweat and shaking limbs.

A door creaked open.

Stiles stood still as a statue, eyes bulging out of his skull.

Two foot steps. Stop. A sniff.

“Derek?” Stiles called feebly, his voice cracking on the middle.

In a rush, Stiles turned and found a hand clamped down on his mouth, eyes locked with the gray-green orbs he had become all too familiar with. He was against a wall now, out of old fashion, Stiles thought. He was trying to mumble around the muscled fingers, but a low growl stopped his efforts.

“How did you get in here?” Derek hissed, his knee coming between Stiles’ legs in a way he had probably meant to be uncomfortable, but Stiles oddly enjoyed the friction.

 _The door was unlocked_ , Stiles tried to respond; Instead it came out more of “Dun-dur-ta-ta-awe-ted.”

Derek rolled his eyes at this. He gave one good shove to Stiles, their chests touching roughly, and then turned away to pace back and forth in front of him. “Don’t say a single word. I know that’s hard for you, but just don’t.”

Stiles gave himself a pat down to make sure he was still in-tact and more importantly: _awake_.

“Did you tell anyone else I was here?” Derek asked, throwing his hand out to the side in frustration.

Stiles, biting his tongue in the urge to say something, just shook his head.

“Don’t.” He replied, baring his teeth. “I don’t want anyone to know yet.”

Stiles lit up at that one word: _yet._ That was all he needed.

He launched himself at the pacing wolf with a yelp of glee and wrapped his arms around him. “DEREK! YOU’RE BACK!”

He laughed and hugged and jumped and danced. He even kissed the man on the cheek in his celebration. “I’ve never been so happy to see you in my whole life!”

Derek shoved him off with a growl, causing Stiles to tumble into the black leather couch. Alpha or not, Derek was still a werewolf, and no matter how much Stiles had been working out, was still a lot stronger. Despite his outburst of anger, Stiles couldn’t help notice the hint of a smile ghosting at the edge of Derek’s mouth. Or the cheery color seeping into his cheeks from Stiles’ kiss.

“Man! Where have you been!? How long have you been home? Why didn’t you say anything? And HEY! Look at the remodeling, it’s amazing! Are you going to live here? Or is this just some kind of creepy act of closure? Is Cora here too?”

Derek huffed at him with a glare. “Stop asking so many questions, Stiles. Shut up.”

“Oh, come on Sourwolf.” Stiles pleaded. “You gave everyone the slip for two months and one day out of the blue you just stumble back into my life and I’m somehow not supposed to ask for an explanation?!”

“You came to me.” Derek insisted, still giving nothing away, but seemingly calmer.

“Doesn’t matter.” Stiles griped. “I still care.”

“Care about what?” Derek asked, head titling.

He didn’t get the chance to answer though, because the door opened again, this time with two not-so-brooding werewolves. Stiles’ eyes grew as wide around as silver dollars. Right there, in the doorway, arms full of groceries was Jackson. Jackson Whittemore. Jackson who was in London. Jackson who loved Lydia. Lydia who kissed Stiles. Well, he was a dead man. Maybe he wouldn’t mention that part.

“Stilinksi? What the hell are you doing here?” He barked.

Cora was by his side, arms carrying little plastic bags, but notably fewer than Jackson.  Her long dark hair was in curls around her shoulders. It went well with the thin white long-sleeved t-shirt she was wearing. She looked paler than last time he’d seen her, but not in a sickly way. She almost looked porcelain. Stiles’ jaw dropped again to the floor of the house.

Being himself, he shot up from the couch and ran forward, slinging his flailing arms around Cora. She dropped her bags and hugged him back in surprise. “MY BABY!” He yelled, picking her up and twirling her around.

Stiles had considered Cora to be one of his closest friends, because ever since she had come into the picture, she’d been there. Whenever Scott and Derek and Allison and Isaac were off saving the world, Cora was there to talk to him and he had been there in return. Yes, there had been some feelings, but they hadn’t had enough time to fully blossom the way that they could have. Namely because of Derek and his grand escape plan.

“It’s nice to see you too, Stiles.” She laughed, rubbing her face along the side of his neck. He didn’t know if it was an affection gesture or a werewolf scenting thing, or both. He would accept them all.

“I’ve missed you! Oh my god, how I’ve missed you.” He grinned, setting her back down and helping her pick up the groceries, Derek and his scowling long forgotten; well, almost. “Where have you been? Why are you here? Holy Hell at the house! Cora, this is awesome!” Stiles babbled.

“Slow down, okay. Breathe. Help me put these up in the kitchen first.” She grinned, walking to where Jackson had disappeared sometime during their hug fest.

She led them through a small hallway that opened up into a bright, sunshine yellow kitchen with black tile and stainless steel. Stiles almost giggled with joy. That was, until he saw Derek and Jackson huddled in the corner of the kitchen whispering angrily to each other. Stiles felt a little sad at this; did Derek seriously not want him there? He was back! This should be a happy thing. Stiles would make it a happy thing if it was the last thing he ever did! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd you guys like it? Well, be sure to leave comments if you want to put in your two cents about the direction this fic will take... I've got a majority of it planned, but I'm open to suggestion. (: Thanks for reading!


	2. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cora invites Stiles to stay for dinner, Stiles invites Derek to stay in Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola! Chapter two has emerged. In the same day. Not even going to lie, I have until chapter 6 written. I may post them all out of excitement. Any objections?

Stiles cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the two in the corner. "Secrets don't make friends!" He shouted, knowing good and well they could hear him even if he had whispered, but he wanted to make a point.

Jackson straightened up and scowled at him. That was Derek's move. "Yeah? Well mouthy little shits barging into people's houses uninvited doesn't make friends either."

Stiles huffed, his hands wildly gesturing to Cora. "Cora's my friend."

"Not if you don't help put the groceries away." She sniggered, tucking a pack of hamburger patties into the back of the fridge.

Stiles laughed at this and brushed off the cold stares he received from the dynamic duo. He moseyed over to the white plastic bags, digging through them and handing things to Cora.

"Really? How much meat can you buy? Way to be conspicuous about having a house full of werewolves." He mumbled. "Seriously, you guys bought the whole farm."

Cora playfully smacked him on the shoulder and pushed him out of her way. "Protein is important, you know."

She threw him a flirtatious smile before crumpling up the bags and stowing them in a cabinet under the island that was in the middle of the kitchen.

Jackson growled furiously from across the room. "You know too much. I think we have to kill you."

Derek nodded silently.

Stiles knitted his eyebrows together. "I'm not going to say anything, not until you want me to. I just want to know why."

He directed this at Derek, who nodded towards the living room. He stalked out silently with the message clear that Stiles should follow him.

Once out of the presence of the other two, Derek gave him a look over. "You and I both know you can't keep your big mouth shut."

Stiles held up a finger. "I kept the secret from my dad. Until I had to tell him. I can do the same about this."

Derek shook his head and crossed his arms. "This is different."

"How? Talk to me, Sourwolf." He reasoned, stepping closer. "Why don't you want anyone to know you're here? I thought we were your family."

That word struck a chord on Derek's heart. He stood stone still for was seemed like minutes. His eyes darted from Stiles to the floor and back again.

"It just wasn't the right time." He said with finality.

"When is the right time?" Stiles asked. "Because destiny thought today was a good day for me to find out."

Derek swallowed. "That's different."

Stiles shook his head, obviously done with the conversation. He'd go weasel it out of Cora or Jackson.

Or at least, he was going to until he walked in on them wrapped in a passionate embrace with their tongues down each others throats.

"Now, THAT'S different." He stated, ogling at the strange sight before him.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Stiles was sitting at the dinner table in the dining room chewing on his taco and his thoughts. The red walls were distracting, but then again so was the silence, and the giant ass elephant in the room.

Cora, being as fond of Stiles' as she was(Pointedly more-so than usual), had invited him to stay for dinner as long as he helped cook. Then, over the sizzling hamburger meat and grated bowl of cheese, she gave him the shocking run-down of the last two months.

When Derek and Cora left, they went to go warn other packs in the area about the Nemeton's power returning and the wave of danger it would call through their territory. After starting up the rumor mill and hoping that it would carry from there, they left the country to go find Jackson. Derek needed to warn him that he had given up his Alpha status to save Cora, so Jackson would technically be an omega until he vowed himself to another alpha. Sometime during their visit, Cora and Jackson started up a flirtationship and it built from there. Now they are apparently a thing.

Then, realizing that Beacon Hills was about to be in more danger than ever, the trio decided to come home and build up a fortress. Derek, of course, felt guilty and couldn't let the rest of them suffer alone. He wanted to offer up his newly rebuilt home (accommodated to survive all kinds of attacks) as a headquarters for the werewolves he left behind.

Basically, Derek still hadn’t decided if he wanted to stay or not, and Cora and Jackson are adamant about making this their home. This being the reason that it needs to be kept under wraps.

Stiles could understand that, the parts he could process anyway. Derek probably felt weird about not being an alpha anymore; but he wasn't always alpha, so it wouldn't be so bad, right? Either way, Stiles wanted him to say. Needed him to stay, actually.

Things on ground zero hadn't exactly been a walk in the park. He had nearly forgotten to mention that.

"So..." He said around a mouthful of food, stopping the few noises among the silence. "I don't guess you guys have any idea what's been going on around here, do you?"

Cora took a sip out of her glass of water and then shook her head.

"Uhm.. Let me see if I can summarize.." He gave a weak grimace at the muttered 'not likely' from Derek's end of the table, but his expression came out more anxious than toxic. "So far we've been attacked by a family of trolls, a demon, and two very pissed off wood nymphs. And by we, I mean Scott's pack. He took in Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, obviously. Along with Ethan and Aiden. Then of course all of us squishies: Me, Allison, Danny, and Lydia, even though she doesn't entirely count as human these days." He took a deep breath and tried to stop his knee from bouncing. "Deucalion hasn't shown his face since you and Scott sent him off," He looked at Derek. "But, Gerard Argent has been seemingly getting better, so Allison says. She thinks it may have something to do with the Nemeton, but it could also possibly be help from some mystical outside source." He waved his hand in the air to gesture towards whatever thing it was that was helping Gerard. "Nevertheless, Allison and her dad are more on our side. They've got their whole 'Protect those who cannot protect themselves' motto, which is nice. Because apparently the citizens of Beacon Hills are dingbats that can't get it together in a time of mythical crises."

Stiles didn't realize how angry he'd been getting. It's just, in his head, he was reliving every moment and suddenly realizing how much help it would have been to have Derek and Cora around. If not to fight, then just to know that they're there, that he could talk to them and know they were safe. Tears welled up in his eyes and his muscles went taught.

Cora put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently, eyes watching him with sympathy. Jackson didn't have the nerve to grumble, but Stiles could feel his glare. Derek just at silently, watching the scene unfold.

"Yeah. So that's what you missed on last week's episode of 'Fighting For Our Lives'." Stiles said, standing up. "Thank you for inviting me to stay for dinner, Cora."

He began to walk out of the house, careful not to slam the door. The newborn house didn't deserve his wrath. It did nothing to him. 

He was almost down the steps when he heard a ragged plea, "Stiles."

He turned slowly to find Derek standing in the doorway. He closed the door, and walked to Stiles.

"How did you get here?" He asked quietly.

"I was on a run in the woods. I parked near the entrance to the preserve." He swallowed, looking at the ground.

"Want me to walk with you?" He edged, avoiding eye contact.

"Do you want to?" Stiles replied cagily.

"Yes." Derek said, with a sincere sigh.

"Okay." All the anger melted from Stiles in that one word. Instead he felt tired and limp.

They walked in silence the whole way there, nothing but the black birds cawing overhead. The sun had set a while ago, so Stiles was struggling to see where he was walking over the uneven forest floor. Derek would reach out the occasional hand to stop him from face planting into something pointy, probably to avoid delays in his trip rather than actually caring. Cora had probably put him up to this after all. He knew exactly why, too.

"Derek, you have to stay." He said, stopping in front of his jeep. "I want you to stay."

Derek stood for a moment, features icy. "I don't know if-"

Stiles interrupted him with a hand on his shoulder. His voice was earnest. "Stay."

"Don't tell anyone I'm here yet." He stated, eyes locking with Stiles'. "I'm not ready."

"Can I come back and see you until you are?" Stiles pushed hesitantly, squeezing his grip on Derek's shoulder comfortingly.

"I'll be here." He nodded, a tsunami of underlying words waiting for Stiles to dissect when he got home.

Then Derek did something Stiles never dreamed he would(except for that one time); He hugged him.

Then he was gone. Off into the darkness of the night, he bounded back towards the Hale property. It took Stiles a good five minutes to break his gaze away from the tree line and get in the driver's seat of his Jeep.

It was going to be a long ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Cuteness. And then Derek runs with his tail between his legs(ha ha dog joke). Figures.


	3. Firewood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you hide the smell of werewolves that you aren't supposed to smell like from werewolves that can totally smell the werewolves you shouldn't smell like? 
> 
> Confused? It's okay, Stiles is too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky chapter number three! It's here! Whoopie!

Stiles was faced with a problem.

He'd slept restlessly all night, trying to analyze everything that had happened the day before. But here he was, spending his Sunday morning in bed without a clue what to do. And the worst thing? Scott had called a pack meeting today. Today, of all days. Stiles wanted to slam his face into a wall. He had to go, because this was apparently serious, and attendance was mandatory. On the other side of the spectrum, he couldn't go. He absolutely could not under no circumstances waltz up in a room full of werewolves smelling distinctly like werewolves that were not supposed to be in a hundred mile radius of Stiles.

Fuck Stiles Stilinski's fucking life.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Cora, figuring she would be more understanding than the other two.

 

**To Cora:**

hey sos i smell like u

 

**To Stiles:**

Stilinski, What the fuck are you playing at?

 

**To Cora:**

jackson?

 

**To Stiles:**

Yes, dipshit. What do you want?

 

_Well, I guess too bad for his genius plan._

 

**To Cora:**

where is cora?

 

**To Stiles:**

Shower.

 

**To Cora:**

scott called a pack meeting. i smell like u 3. theyre gonna know

 

**To Stiles:**

Don't go.

 

**To Cora:**

its mandatory

 

**To Stiles:**

Derek said to come here. Make up some excuse. It better be a good one.

 

Stiles sighed and turned over in bed. What could he possibly say? He'd already skipped the past three meetings. Mostly because he was tired of hearing the same things over and over again. Still, he pulled his phone up again and texted Scott.

 

**To Scott:**

hey i cant come today

 

**To Stiles:**

dude u have to

 

**To Scott:**

dad is making me do paperwork at the station all day

 

**To Stiles:**

make up some excuse

 

**To Scott:**

i cant. im still in trouble for the other day

 

**To Stiles:**

fine. ill fill u in later

 

Stiles hated lying. He thought the lying was over when he told his dad the truth. But no, the lying had only begun. And it was really hard to lie to werewolves as opposed to lying to your father who can't hear your friggin' heartbeat. He got out of bed and threw on his clothes, eager to get back out to the Hale house.

He started up his jeep and went back out to the preserve. He decided to park in the same spot as yesterday so that no one could see him turning down Derek's driveway. But the walk somehow felt longer this time. Stiles' stomach was in knots, his palms were sweaty. He suddenly remembered the reason he went to Derek's in the first place. He thought he was just being paranoid when he heard the rustle in the leaves again. 

This time instead of bolting for hell and high water, he froze mid-step, eyes scanning his surroundings. Nearby, there was a pile of leaves caught up in a dead bush. Through the twisted twigs, Stiles saw a pair of eyes watching him. They were electric blue lined with fur. The eyes then moved around the bush and a sleek white wolf cantered across the clearing. It stopped five feet in front of Stiles and stared up into his disbelieving eyes. This didn't look like any normal wolf, nor did it look like an alpha in its wolf form. It was almost human-like in the way it moved and in the way it watched Stiles. The wolf whimpered and Stiles bent down, extending his hand carefully. The wolf stepped closer and rubbed its snout against his open hand, licking his fingers gently.

Stiles was in awe. What was this wolf? Then a loud crack came through the woods and the wolf was gone. Not in gone as in ran off, but as in dissipated into a thin cloud of silver mist. Stiles nearly peed himself.

He followed the sound of the crack. Shortly after, he heard another, and then another. The closer he got to the Hale house, the louder the sounds got. And then he found it. The source of the noise. It was Derek, with an axe, splitting firewood. Stiles watched from afar as his muscles flexed, as he wielded the tool above his head and then slammed it down. He was wondering when he should say something, but Derek beat him to it.

"Are you going to just stand there ad watch, or are you going to help?" He asked, using the axe as a support to lean on while he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"You trust me with an axe?" Stiles asked incredulously, walking closer. He made the quick decision to wait and talk to him about the wolf he saw in the woods.

"No." Derek snorted with a smile. What a rare sight. "I trust you can carry a couple of logs up to the house without seriously injuring yourself or anyone else."

"Glad to know you believe in me, Derek." Stiles snapped sarcastically as he picked up a couple of logs, then let the wolf stack the rest up before gathering his own. They headed up the hill to the house in silence, minus a few grunts and wheezes(those mostly came from Stiles.) "Why are you cutting down wood so early? September isn't even over yet!" He huffed around his armful of logs.

"That tree fell down last night and I wanted to get it out of the way before it started to rot." Derek answered with seemingly no trouble at all.

"You really shouldn't interrupt the natural cycle." Stiles quipped.

"You really shouldn't stick your nose into what everyone else is doing but you do that anyway, so there's no point in playing fair if no one else is." Derek analyzed.

"Cheaters never win." Stiles chided.

"Only bad cheaters." Derek smirked.

They were back at the house now and Derek walked around the side to add to the pile that was already building up. Stiles put his down on too and stepped back, brushing off his hands and reveling in the feeling of weight that had been lifted off his chest.

"Sure is a lot of firewood here, don'tchya think?" Stiles observed. "Quite a lot of trees falling down in the middle of the night. Quite a lot of stopping the natural cycle. That's bad ju-ju, Derek."

Derek rolled his eyes. "When you're outside in the freezing cold trying to cut firewood, you can tell that bad ju-ju nonsense to kiss my fireplace-warmed ass."

"Like your ass needs a fireplace to get warm." Stiles laughed. "You werewolf-freak-of-nature."

It felt good to be back into the normal stride of brood and banter that he and Derek had. It felt really good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we see some interesting *cough cough* MAGIC *cough cough* stuff in this chapter, which will be accumulative as the story goes on. Any speculations?


	4. Now You See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was fine until it wasn't. 
> 
> The girl was there until she wasn't. 
> 
> Stiles was conscious until he wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gives me mixed emotions, but most of them can be expressed with "Squuuueeeeeeee!!!" Needless to say, enjoy, lovlies!

Stiles was sitting on the couch next to Cora. They were watching some old movie from the 80's that Stiles didn't recognize, which was rare. Jackson and Derek were upstairs somewhere more than likely plotting out how to keep themselves a secret while Stiles smelled of Ala De Werewolf.  
He had his arm slung around the back of the couch, massaging Cora's shoulder. She seemed tense. But he wouldn't be able to tell from her expression, which was rather blissful. She was almost glowing. Stiles furrowed his brows together.   
  
"What's with you, lately?" He questioned, poking the shoulder he was rubbing.   
  
"What do you mean?" She said through a lighthearted laugh.   
  
"That!" He grinned. "You're all happy and sweet. I mean, you seem like you don't have a care in the world."  
  
"Is that a bad thing, that I'm happy?" She raised a brow, still smiling brilliantly.   
  
"No, it's just weird! I like it, I just don't get it." Stiles said, tilting his head to observe her.   
  
"I've got lots of reasons to be happy now. The house is rebuilt, and it's beautiful. I've got Jackson, and things are perfect. I get to see you again, and Derek, I think, is in a better mood because of it. There's just lots of good in my life right now."   
  
"Hmm... I get that. But there's something different. I just can't put my finger on it." Stiles said, cuddling closer to her.   
  
She gave him a knowing grin.   
  
"Well, there is one other thing... I'm not really supposed to tell anyone yet... But I can't hide it forever, and it's killing me not to say something." She hinted, practically bouncing with joy.   
  
"I won't tell a soul, cross my heart and hope to die. Just spill it!" He pushed.   
  
"I'm having a baby." She squeaked.   
  
Stiles eyes went as wide around as the moon. He sat, jaw dropped and speechless for once in his entire life. It took him a good minute as a half to compose himself before jumping up and down on the couch, taking Cora's hands in his. She giggled and bounced happily along with him.   
  
"Oh my god! This is fantastic! Oh, Cora do you know how long it's been since we had some good news? Actually, I don't think we've EVER had good news like this! Oh my god! You're having a baby!"   
  
In a split second, Stiles froze with realization. "Holy God you're having a baby." He said in a grave voice. "You're having a fucking baby. Jackson Whittemore's fucking baby. Lydia is going to kill you. And the baby will kill us _all!_ "  
  
Cora huffed. Then she rolled her eyes and snorted. "Jackson is my mate. I'm allowed to have as many of his babies as I like." She tugged on his hands. "I am more than capable of dealing with Lydia. Now can you go back to being happy for me?" She pleaded.   
  
"Of course I can! But really? Jackson? He's your mate? Not just your boyfriend?" Stiles asked, trying to swallow but finding that his mouth was dry as the desert.   
  
Cora bit her lip and nodded with a giddy love struck smile. Stiles couldn't help to smile back. He hugged her tightly.   
  
"I'm happy for you." He whispered.   
  
Someone angrily cleared their throat behind him. He grinned and turned to find a cold glare from Jackson.   
  
"Oh, look! It's Daddy Jackson!" He yelled obnoxiously.   
  
Derek walked down the stairs at this time and shook his head. "Shut up, Stiles." There was a hint of fondness in his voice.   
  
"Oh, come on! How often is it that one of your werewolf friends is having a kid with one of your other werewolf not so friends!" He said stupidly, standing and walking over to clap Jackson on the shoulder.  
  
He tensed under the hand, but nodded with a grimace. "Thanks."  
  
Stiles took that as a win.   
  
"So, have you figured out how I'm going get around my other wolfy people without them picking up on the Hale stink? Because I may have avoided them today, but I have school tomorrow and I don't think that any amount of soap and water could clear me for sitting next to Scott's super sniffer in History class." Stiles questioned Derek as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.   
  
"We can't tell them yet." He stated, as if that answered his question. It didn't.   
  
Unsatisfied, Stiles added, "And...?"  
  
"And you have to stay here tonight in case any of them try to come over to your house. And you can't go to school tomorrow." Derek replied, walking over to the kitchen without looking at him.   
  
Stiles followed him, arms flailing. "I can't just hide from my life because you want to! I have to go to school! I have to go home to my dad!  People will worry about me!"   
  
Derek rolled his eyes as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "It's just one day, Stiles. Just until I have a better plan."   
  
Stiles raised his voice. "One day? What if you don't come up with a better plan! What if it turns into two days? A week? Derek, you need to tell them. They need you."   
  
Derek sat down at the kitchen table, boring a hole into the center of it with a dazed stare. "I know." He said, not looking at anyone or anything, just taking a sip of his coffee.   
  
Stiles sat across the table from him. He reached over and put his hands on Derek's wrists. This caused the brooding man to look up at him. His eyes were red around the edges like he hadn't gotten enough sleep.   
  
"Just one more day." He whispered. "That's all I need."   
  
Stiles nodded and rubbed his thumb across Derek's wrist. "Okay."   
  
~~~~~~~  
  
So far, it was only 4 o'clock and he already had 6 missed calls from Scott and one from his Dad. There were 14 unanswered texts from both his dad and the pack. Stiles never realized how important he apparently was for their day to day lives. His phone was sitting on the glass top of the coffee table in the living room. It was going off every couple of minutes or so.   
  
Finally, someone spoke up. It was Jackson. "Stiles, turn it off, respond, do something. Just make it stop." He cuddled closer to Cora and hid his face in her neck. Stiles' had to admit that they really were a cute couple.   
  
He nodded and reached for it, texting lightning quick replies. His dad was going to be working late, so Stiles just checked in to say he was fine. He told Scott that he was feeling a little sick, and that he just needed some rest and that he probably wouldn't be at school tomorrow. Then he turned off his phone and shoved it in his pocket.   
  
"There." He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now everyone I care about has been sufficiently lied to concerning my whereabouts."  
  
Cora just have him a simple grin and tapped his nose. "At least you're with us, and not abducted by pixies!"   
  
"Wood nymphs!" He corrected. "And I was not abducted... I was setting a trap.. That ended up trapping myself."  
  
Cora had enjoyed his stories of the fights they had experienced in the Hale's absence. Especially the funny parts, like Stiles trapping himself in a net meant for the nymphs. Then being held hostage by said nymphs until Erica showed up and cut him loose.   
  
"It's still funny." She snorted. Jackson smiled in agreement.   
  
"Yeah. In hindsight, not my best plan." He blushed, watching the ground.   
  
"And how many, exactly, of your plans are actually good?" Derek deadpanned from his lay-z-boy in the corner.   
  
Stiles grimaced in his direction. Jackson and Derek seemed to have some kind of telepathic werewolf fist bump. Stiles just huffed.   
  
"You guys are just born comedians, aren't you?" He crossed his arms and kicked his feet up on the table.   
  
"You just make it easy, Stilinski." Jackson smirked.   
  
Everything felt so normal. Like, more normal than it ever had been. It crept up into Stiles' mood like a cold front. Something was off. There was a taste in the air.. Like electricity. Stiles stiffened as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.   
  
Notably, every werewolf in the room stood stark still, necks stretching as if they were listening.   
  
Stiles didn't need werewolf hearing to pick up on the screech of brakes outside and the whirring of tires sliding on dirt. They all jumped up and ran towards the door, stopping on the porch as they watched the bright red SUV come around the curve of Derek's driveway. It was seemingly coming straight towards the house.   
  
Then, in a beat the car swerved. It hit a dirt hill and soared off the edge, nose diving into a tree. There was a loud crunch and the sounds of creaking metal. Glass twinkled and chimed against the wreckage. Stiles stared in disbelief at the brunette printed in the front seat behind a blown airbag. It was hard to see through the steam leaking from under the recently bent up hood.  
  
He rushed forward before the wolves could react, and reached his arms through the shattered window. The door was crushed  in to the point that he couldn't open it, but he reached through the opening and touched her bleeding neck to check for a pulse. It was a dull thump, but she was alive; for now. There was a cut on her forehead, and her right arm was bent at an awkward angle.   
  
Stiles held his breath to escape the metallic scent. He turned his head to signal the werewolves. "She's alive, but just barely." He yelled. He didn't understand their flabbergasted faces until he turned back to see his hands playing in silver most as she disappeared, leaving an empty, wrecked SUV.   
  
Stiles swallowed hard as he recognized the silver mist. He felt dizzy, as the ground moved beneath him. He caught a glimpse of the dark inside of his skull before everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is this mystery girl and WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS WRECKING INTO DEREK'S PROPERTY? How rude... Disappeared into thin air without even swapping insurance information. *tisk tisk tisk* 
> 
> Also, uhm. JORA BABY. It's happening. Expect Lydia/Cora drama llama. Cause, old loves as they may be, Jackson no longer belongs to Lydia, and MOMMA CORA WILL KILL TO PROVE THAT POINT. (Not really, but it's something to look forward to, right?)


	5. Vilicus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you hang out with people that shouldn't exist; like werewolves, for example. 
> 
> Other times, you take a nap and wake up as something that shouldn't exist; like Stiles, for example.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trudge on, Soldier! That's what I keep telling myself. I figured I should send the encouragement to my audience. See you at the bottom!

There was a dark lavender haze covering his vision. There was a lush forest surrounding him. It was night. There was a large orange moon hanging in the sky. He was alone and he was cold. Not cold like he needed to shiver or stand beside a fire, but cold like something dangerous was ahead. Cold like he was numb all over and tingling with a sensation so hot it felt like ice. It turned his skin white like flour and his lips blue like death.

He watched straight ahead. There was a speck of light, like a star. It shimmered around the edges. It grew larger and more defined as it came closer until Stiles was staring face to face with the white wolf and its electric blue eyes. They exchanged solemn looks, the haze twirling around them like snow in the wind.

Stiles tried to speak, but it sounded distant and mangled, like he was under water.

The wolf then fell forward, the human girl from the wreck in its place. She was bleeding from her head like before. She looked up and opened her eyes. They were the same as the wolf. She groaned out a faint word.

"Vilicus." She reached out her hand for his.

He took her hand, and suddenly his was burning. He was screaming. It was white hot and he could hear the sizzling of his skin. The girl on the ground began to glow. The silver mist gathered around her until Stiles could no longer see her. Then he couldn't see anything but the silver mist. The forest was gone, his body was gone, but the burning on his palm remained. And then it was all over.

 

~~~~~

 

When Stiles woke, he was staring up into Cora's worried face. She was shaking his shoulders and screaming his name. When she saw that he was no longer sleeping, she pulled him into an embrace, stroking the back of his head.

"God, Stiles!" She whispered, kissing his temple. "I thought you were dying. What were you dreaming about? You were screaming bloody murder!"

She kept rubbing his back and soothing him with calm words. His throat felt sore and scratched as evidence of her words. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"I dreamed about the girl." He choked out.

"What girl?" Cora questioned, pushing him away from her. Her face was contorted with concern.

"The one that was in the car." He insisted.

"Stiles... No one was in that car." She shook her head. "Derek said it was bewitched."

Stiles eyes went wide. "No, it was the girl. She was the wolf I saw earlier. I know it was. There was the same silver mist and everything!"

"What are you talking about?" She said, voice growing tight with worry.

"It's a long story." He said, clenching his fists. He winced. His right palm was itching and burning.

He opened it up. There, in the center, was a symbol, turning his skin black, blistering up and puffy around the edges. A distinct eyeball with elongated lines at the edges. The iris of the eye was a spiral and it seemed to mesmerize him.

"It's a really, really long story." He gulped.

 

~~~~

 

"Tell me one more time, Stiles. From the beginning." Derek said slowly hand bouncing in front of him as if to pace his words for Stiles to understand. "Try to remember everything you can."

"I told you. Earlier when I was walking through the woods, there was a wolf. It was white with blue eyes. Like, really blue. It licked my hand and then it disappeared in the silver mist." His hands were shaking and his foot was tapping. "Then the girl in the car, which apparently I was the only one who could see her, also disappeared into silver mist. Then, when I was passed out, she was in my dream. First as the wolf, then as the girl. She was bleeding like she was when I saw her. She opened her eyes and they were the same color as the wolf's." He swallowed and tried to fight down the anxious feeling in his stomach. "Then she reached out and grabbed my hand and it burned like hell. When I woke up, I had this." He raised his palm.

Derek didn't seem convinced that he was telling him everything. "Anything else? Absolutely anything?" 

"Uhm.." Stiles racked his brain. "There was a moon in the sky in the forest. It was huge. And orange. It was really orange."

"The Harvest Moon." Cora chimed in realization.

"Yeah, I guess?" Stiles responded. Then he chewed the inside of his lip. "She also said a word... Something in another language.. Wick-uh-kiss? No, that's not it.. Uhm... Vilicus. That's the one." The sound was Latin, the 'v' making a 'w' sound. It sounded like Will-ih-cuhss.

As the word left Stiles' mouth, the letters burned across the top of the eyeball. He let out a gasp and tried to close his hand, but his muscles weren't responding.

Derek's eyes resembled that of a mad man. He knew what this meant.

"You've been marked." He said shallowly. "You're a guardian."

"I'm a what?" Stiles gaped, resembling a goldfish who had been taken out of his bowl.

"A guardian." Cora responded carefully. "They're part of an old legend... They're... protectors of the supernatural. Like angels, without all of the divinity."

Stiles blinked at her. "So, I, with all of my human spastic flaws, am supposed to protect you, essentially, with all of your self healing and super senses?"

"You've been marked." Derek said simply, as of that said it all.

It didn't.

"So you've told me." Stiles nodded. "But what does that mean?"

"Guardians aren't born with power... At a certain age, or in a time of need, they're marked by another guardian. Usually it's a relative." Derek said factually. He paused and whispered. "I'm guessing that your mother was one."

Stiles fell back against the wall, a hand clutching at his heart. He sank to the floor, gaze lost somewhere in the distance.

"Oh." He exhaled shakily.

"Stiles... There's more you should know..." Cora pushed after a few minutes of everyone sitting solemnly.  When he didn't acknowledge her, she continued. "You're going to start seeing... Abilities. More than any werewolf or magical creature you've seen before. There's really no telling what you'll be capable of."

At this, Stiles painstakingly moved his eyes to her, not really seeing, but hearing. "How will I know what to do?"

"Most of it will be instinct... There's no guide book. Usually the guardian is trained by it's relative, or the one who gave them the mark. But since we don't know who... You're sort of on your own." Cora bit her lip and got up, walking over to where stiles sat on the floor. She knelt down and sat beside him, sliding her arms around his shoulders.

"Fabulous." He snorted, coming back to reality under her comforting touch.

"We'll be here to help you as much as we can." Derek sighed. "We just don't know a whole lot. Like Cora said... It was a legend. You're not supposed to be real."

Stiles grinned at that. "Well, according to how I grew up, neither are you."

He didn't feel any different, other than the burning in his palm.

"When do the powers come?" Jackson asked, reading Stiles' thoughts.

"We have no idea." Cora and Derek said in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how about that... Stiles is magical. I told you so. TAGS. But, what does it all meannnnnn? 
> 
> The world may never know.


	6. The Chicken or The Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was storming outside. Stiles' figured that it wasn't a coincidence considering the thunder and bright flashes in his dream. But he had to wonder... What came first, the chicken or the egg?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter Six! Despite the title, this section unfortunately has very little to do with chickens and more to do with magic and cuddling. I didn't think anyone would complain.

Everyone was bustling around the kitchen making dinner. Stiles, who claimed he was being forced to stay against his will, refused to help. Less because he didn't want to, more because he was too much in shock to think about doing anything else but thinking. Instead, he relaxed at a chair in the dining room, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. They were drumming out some sort of tune, when suddenly, little blue sparks bounced across the mahogany surface. The nerves of his fingers felt pinched and stretched too far and too tight.

"Fuck!" He screamed, holding his hand out. His flanges were glowing and spurting out little stars of light.

"C-Cora! Derek!" He called in a quivering voice. "What's happening?"

They both rushed in, eyes locking on the light show in his hand.

"What did you do?!" Derek shouted, standing numbly.

"I was just tapping my fingers like I always do! Then they freaking set on fire! Or magic! Whatever!" He stammered.

Cora ran forward and turned him towards her. She took his face in her hands and spoke in a soothing voice. "Calm down. Slow, deep breaths. Clear your head. Think about curly fries. Simple, greasy curly fries."

She petted his cheeks and repeated various images of soothing things to help Stiles find his happy place. Eventually the glow began to fade.

"Goddamn it.." Derek sighed, dragging both hands down his face. "If you being nervous triggers it.. We're so seriously screwed."

"Maybe we should just toss him out in the yard and make him blow shit up until he learns to control it." Jackson piped, raising a brow from his newfound stance against the doorframe.

"Jackson.." Cora warned, giving him her best stare.

"No... That's, that's actually a good idea." Stiles mimed, standing up and walking towards the front door. "Maybe I just need to get a feel for what's going on."

"And if you blow us up in the process?!" Derek scrambled after him.

"I'll aim it away from the house." Stiles waved it off, causing a painting to fall from the wall. "Oh my god, I'm sorry."

Then he bolted out the door.

 

~~~~~

 

Stiles was in panic mode. He wasn't quite to the point of having a full blown attack, but he was working that way.

He hustled down the stairs of the porch and out into the clearing of woods they called a yard. He stood still, eyes closing as he tried to focus. He remembered reading something about meditating... How you have to feel the air around you, and become one with it. That you have to erase the magical line of force separating you from everything else.

Stiles stuck out his arms to find some balance and titled his head back to open up his stance. He could feel the pressure around him, sure that he had never been able to do so before. Then everything felt lighter, like snow was drifting down his nerves.

He heard a sharp intake of breath that caused him to loose his center. He opened his eyes to see tree branches and skylines a great deal higher than he was used to.

Then he made the biggest mistake of all. He looked down.

There below him, just like usual, there were brown leaves and damp soil, twigs and groves, but most certainly unlike usual, his feet were no where near contact. Yes, Stiles was flying.

Well, more like levitating. And even that didn't last long, because with his concentration gone and fear sinking in, he began his free fall to the cold hard ground.

A rush of air escaped his lungs and he didn't have time to scream. He only caught sight of the bleak gray sky, marveling at the last thing he would ever lay eyes on.

Or so he thought.

With a grunt and a searing pain in his lower back, Stiles crashed against a pair of two muscular arms attached to a very brick-wall-esque chest.

"Oh, Derek, thank god." Stiles cried into the smoky black Henley. He let his forehead rub against the werewolf's stubble, delighted even with the uncomfortable rash growing on his skin, because it meant one thing: He was alive.

"Wh-wha.." He sobbed, not even the slightest bit ashamed at his breakdown.

He'd nearly just killed himself on accident. Stiles had no idea how to control this or stop it.

Derek just shook his head, hugged him closer, and carried him back into the house. He never spoke and he carried him up the stairs and rounded a corner, opening a heavy set of double doors into a dark room. It was spacious and elegant, but still simplistic. The dressings on the long sized bed were black. The carpet was a soft gray. Stiles couldn't see much else thanks to the dark curtains on the windows.

He suspected this was Derek's room.

Derek walked over and unfolded the comforter, scooting Stiles underneath it.

"Sleep." He grunted, then turned to go.

Stiles grabbed at his wrist. "Stay." He pleaded, not wanting to be left alone.

Derek nodded and scooted in by his side, hugging the still shaking boy to his chest.

"Sleep." He repeated, exhaling warmly down Stiles' neck.

And for once, Stiles did exactly as he was told.

~~~~~~

The edges of his vision were hazy. Stiles figured he must be dreaming, but the inclination drifted away before he could put any solid notion behind it. He strained to hear, but all was silent. He felt cold static in the air; suddenly large blue eyes watched him.

"Who are you?" He questioned in a pinched, faraway voice.

"Hollimora." Responded an icy whisper.

The eyes grew to a face, and then long chocolate locks. He recognized the girl.

"Help me." He begged, reaching out for her.

She disappeared into the infamous silver mist, leaving behind only an echo, "Soon."

Then there were flashes of bright hot white light. The ground was shaking, there were cracking sounds. Something was loud and wailing. There was glass shattering, wind howling. Or was it wolves? Stiles couldn't tell.

He tried to catch his breath but he hit a lock. He was trapped in the dream. But the piercing screeches continued. His skin was ripping away from his bones.

"Stiles!" He heard a roar. "Stiles!"

And in one swift moment, the weight of the world crushed him. With a 'pop' the dream was gone and he was panting, sat up tall, crying in cold sweat as Derek shook him.

 

~~~~

 

It was storming outside. Stiles' figured that it wasn't a coincidence considering the thunder and bright flashes in his dream. But he had to wonder... What came first, the chicken or the egg?

"Did I...." He hesitated, swallowing thoroughly before nodding to the disruptive weather outside.

Derek's expression was grave. Stiles needed no other answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles the... weather man? MORE LIKE STILES WHO JUST CUDDLED WITH DEREK. I consider this a win in all directions.


	7. First Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It sucks bad enough when someone walks in on your spontaneous sexy time; it sucks even worse when it's because there's a girl passed out on your front porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. I have no quirky quipps and comments for this. So, I'll try this. 
> 
> *Flashing lights and curtains opening* Come one, Come all! Step right up, Step right up! The show's just about to begin!

"Stiles... Stiles, talk to me." Derek pleaded, tugging on the boys' shoulder.   
  
For the past Ten minutes, Stiles had remained sat up in bed, knees hugged to his chest, eyes unwavering from the same spot in the wall. Derek was growing worrisome at this. He wasn't one for affection of any kind, and he and Stiles hadn't ever been close enough for that, but they did have an understanding.   
  
Derek's understanding was that as far as his relationship with Stiles was concerned, anything goes.  
  
Stiles just shrugged and leaned against Derek.   
  
"Tell me what you're thinking about.." Derek said, rubbing Stiles' arm soothingly. It was a strange feeling, but not uncomfortable.  
  
Stiles snorted. "Even _I_ can't talk that much."   
  
"That bad, huh?" Derek smirked.   
  
"Of course it's that bad! I'm _magical_! I'm supposed to be Stiles, the human. The perfectly mundane, average, extremely ordinary _human_." He flailed his arms wide for emphasis, but they quickly returned to hug his knees. Derek frowned inwardly at this.  
  
"You've never been ordinary." Derek finally mused, tapping him lightly on the nose.   
  
"You know what I mean." But Stiles reddened at the compliment anyway.  
  
"I do." Derek nodded. "But maybe this isn't so awful.. Maybe it's your chance to do something better, to be something better."   
  
"So I wasn't good before?" Stiles laughed, pushing playfully at Derek's chest.   
  
"Don't be difficult." He grinned.   
  
"What if I want to be?" Stiles leaned forward, whispering a challenge. He watched Derek's eyes.  
  
"Want to be what?" Derek quirked a brow, but his eyes went unknowingly to Stiles' mouth.  
  
"Difficult." Stiles breathed hotly, pressing in on the wolf in Derek.   
  
Derek shivered and wrapped a hand around the back of Stiles' neck, licking his own lips. He took in a sharp breath as he touched their foreheads together and closed his eyes. "I'm not alpha anymore."  
  
"You could still make me submit." Stiles growled in a low, wrecked voice.  
  
"Where's the fun in that?" Derek quipped.   
  
Stiles rocked his hips against Derek's in a bold, lustful motion, clutching at the material of his shirt. "I could show you better than I could tell you..."

  
  
**BAM!**

  
  
The door flew open and the two boys separated. Jackson was standing wild eyed and tense. "We have a problem."   
  
 _Yeah we do_ , thought Derek. If he was about to have to get up and respond to an emergency, things were going get seriously awkward until he could think of a way to hide his accidental hard-on.   
  
~~~~~  
  
Downstairs, Cora was waiting by the door. She had a hand on her stomach, and Stiles' first thought was that something was happening with the baby. But her wide eyes looked to the front door.   
  
"She just knocked on the door! When I opened it, she fainted!" Cora shrieked, pointing to the open doorway.   
  
Outside it was pitch black and pouring down rain, but there in the front porch light, was the girl from before that had crashed in Derek's yard.   
  
Stiles ran to her and checked her pulse. She was still breathing, but there was still a scarlet streak running down her head. Stiles' heart rate was insanely fast and his motions were becoming sperodic, but he picked her up off the ground as best he could before dragging her to the couch.   
  
Jackson looked like he was about to complain that she was wet and would get blood every where, but with one glare from the three other conscious people in the room, he stopped.   
  
"Derek, do you have a first aid kit?" Stiles questioned, turning back to him.  
  
"We're werewolves! Of course we don't!" Jackson smarted.  
  
"Yes, I do. It's in the hall closet, I'll go get it." Derek said, ignoring Jackson who looked stunned.   
  
Stiles leant down and put the back of his hand on her cheek, taking in her porcelain, heart shaped face. Her lips were ribbon pink, but they were taking on a sickening shade of blue.  
  
"Can you hear me?" He spoke clearly but his panic was obvious.  
  
He ducked even closer to hear her heartbeat. When his ear hovered just over her breastbone, she gasped. In sharp surprise, Stiles jerked back. His eyes suddenly found hers and they were locked on each other. He felt an electrocuting connection in their gaze. His mouth opened a fraction of an inch.   
  
"It's you." She whispered.   
  
Stiles was speechless. He reached for her hand and pulled it to his chest. "Are you okay? Do you remember what happened?"  
  
"I'll be fine." She said over gritted teeth, giving away her lie. "I have to warn you..." She clutched his fingers in an iron grip and pulled him closer. "The next full moon... It's the Harvest moon. You'll be ready."  
  
"Ready? Ready for what?" He pressed, but her eyes were already rolling into the back of her head. She lolled her head to the side and continued to drift into unconsciousness.   
  
Derek took that as his cue to rush in with a red metal box with a white plus sign.   
  
"God, Derek. The 40's called. They want their first aid kit back." He laughed, but it was too tight to show any real amusement.   
  
"It has everything you need." He retorted.  
  
Stiles was forced to focus on the task at hand, making quick work of her injuries. He made a mixture from the Advil and a little bottle of water and then opened her mouth and tipped her head back so she'd drink it. Then he wiped disinfectant on the cuts and stitched them up with butterfly band aids. It wasn't hospital quality, but it would do.   
  
Stiles new this girl wasn't human, as her injuries were already starting to heal. But with a confused look from Derek, he could tell she was no werewolf either.   
  
"What...are you?" Stiles whispered incredulously to the unconscious girl before him.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes a bow* I promise there will be more sexy time, and probably more awkwardness when addressing such. BUT LIFE AND FANFICTION. And this girl. She's gonna have some e'splainin' to do.


	8. The Secret Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Hey Stiles, you're a Guardian. Also, there's some big fat stupid rules, and a lot of listening to do. Hope you don't mind!
> 
> He totally minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finally here! Sorry for the wait on the update! I've been supppppperrrr busy with this and that and basically had either no time, no muse, or no energy. This is unbeta'd, mostly un-proofed, and also mostly a filler chapter. The next one calls for a pack meeting, which will be AWESOME. But for now, enjoy the dialogue driven explanation for what's going on with Stiles, and kind of picture in your head how freaking awesome things are about to get.

Stiles woke the next morning with a killer headache and a foggy memory of the night before. He didn't remember where he was, so as he blinked up to the high ceiling of the bedroom he was in, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. One thing in particular stood out to him.

The chiseled, warm body of Derek _freaking_ Hale was currently wrapped around him.

And he was totally loving the feeling of it.

Fuck Stiles Stilinski's fucking life.

In a wave of clarity, the events of the night before came rushing back. After he had stitched up the girl, Derek had guided him upstairs to bed. He promised to watch over the girl, but insisted Stiles should sleep seeing as it was still the middle of the night. Some time after that he had come back in and snuggled up to a very much awake Stiles, claiming that Jackson had taken up watch so that Derek could come calm the erratic heartbeat upstairs. Then Derek had rubbed Stiles' back and hummed a lullaby until he couldn't hold his eyes open any longer. Now he was here.

There was a groan behind him and he jumped.

"What're you doing?" Derek asked sleepily, pulling him closer.

"Thinking." Stiles replied, wiggling against the werewolf lightly, trying not to think about the hard muscle waiting there.

"'Bout what?" He quirked a brow though his eyes were closed, letting out a low moan.

It was probably the most adorable-sexy thing Stiles had ever seen.

He realized then that he didn't have an answer. He was thinking about so much, but also nothing at all. After a moment of silence from Stiles, Derek opened his eyes and took note of the position they were in. He froze, eyes like a mad man. Stiles almost thought he had imagined it because the second it had come over his chiseled features was the second it left. Derek relaxed and then yawned, stretching his arms out and not so subtly scooting away from Stiles. Without a word, he stalked from the room and padded down the stairs. Stiles was left sitting up in bed with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Way to ruin the mood, Sourwolf.” Stiles muttered under his breath.

A pillow came soaring through the open doorway at his face in response.

**\-----------**

After showering—and pondering the interwoven meanings of the universe—Stiles made his way down stairs to breakfast. Cora had sent him a text warning him that Holly, that’s her name, was awake and wanted to talk to him. So, with as much courage as he could muster, Stiles trumped down the stairs and swung into the kitchen with a half smile on his face. There she was, sitting across the table, light shining from behind her. Her hair was brown usually, but it seemed more auburn in the light. Her face was gentle and heart shaped, all proud cheek bones and dimples that could make a serial killer smile. Though, Stiles weighed on that fact as Derek scowled from his perch against the sink. But Derek always scowls, so the point stands; Holly = beautiful.

“Good morning.” He coughed, as she hadn’t looked up yet from her eggs.

Her electric blue eyes found him over her recently picked up coffee cup. “Morning.”

She smiled. Damn. And by that, Stiles means, _DAYUM_. What a sight to wake up to.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked tentatively, taking the chair in front of her, not bothering with food.

“Honestly? I couldn’t be better.” She mused, curls shaking from her slight chuckle. Stiles heart rate sped up; he hoped no one noticed.

“Thank God… I thought the worst. You looked pretty rough last night.” He bit his lip and tried to fight away the images, because he feared it would ruin the sparkling one he had in front of him. “Cora said you… uhm, wanted to talk? Do you want to go somewhere, or?”

“I’d like that.” She nodded kindly, thanking Cora as she stood. “Can we go out back?”

She turned this time to Derek, who just gave her a slight jerk of his head. Stiles took that as a yes.

When he stood, she walked around the table and took his hand in hers; another falter of his heart rate that the werewolves wouldn’t fail to notice. He found that her touch seemed to hum, like electricity. The surprising part, though, was that his hummed back. Stiles had never been aware of humming before. It felt nice.

They went out the back door, down the stairs of the back porch, around the pool, _yes,_ Derek _Freaking_ Hale installed a _pool_ , then they were going into some kind of garden maze. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t little either. Stiles would really hate to get lost in this thing at night. They walked through a few turns before Holly spoke.

“So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions you want me to answer…” She said with a sheepish smile and a light squeeze of his hand. Stiles could have kissed her she looked so cute.

“Oh yeah.” He groaned. “Starting with why I almost killed myself levitating yesterday. That was epic.”

“You did that too? Oh my gosh. I was at a carnival, in front of at least a thousand people! I was mortified. Luckily, in times like that, we can’t be seen. So, mom had to stop my near heart attack with reassurance of our awesomeness.”

She just said awesomeness. Stiles might be in love.

“Wait, we can disappear? Like be invisible? And not even know it?” He flailed his arms, clumsily forgetting that they were holding hands. He blushed and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s kind of a reflex. We won’t even realize it most of the time.” She shrugged. “Like, if you want to be seen, you will be. Your friends, your family, that sort of stuff, they’ll see you. Unless of course you consciously will them not to. But if we slip up or have to fight off some baddies in the middle of a crowd of bystanders, we don’t have to worry about being found out.” She gave him a winning smile, perking up her features in delight. “Perks of being a Guardian Angel I suppose.”

“Wait… Angels? So, like, Father, Son, Spirit of the Holy Ghost kind of angels? Have I just been guaranteed a pass to heaven?” He laughed.

“No, not exactly.” She giggled, patting his hand. “We’re more like supernatural creatures than divine spirits. No godly religion required. Specifically, we’re designed to protect the supernatural from exposure or running amuck, and also protect mortals from getting eaten or mauled or seriously frightened.”

Stiles realized they had reached the middle of the maze now, and he took a seat on a stone bench in front of a fountain. He was glad for the humid air because he needed to breathe. “Jesus…” He muttered.

Holly held up a finger smartly, “No! We discussed this.” But he could tell she was joking and his heart swelled at the thought.

“So… Why now? Why me?” He asked.

“The Nemeton, you remember? Well, the call of supernatural beings also applied to us. To my family. To all guardians. Your powers have probably been stirring for quite some time, eager to get out and help these supernaturals you hang around, but the big fat stupid rules say it must be activated. They assume that everyone makes it out of these things okay.” Holly bit her lip, trailing off as her gaze wandered.

“Yeah… My mom, uh, she would have been the one, but she… she died a few years ago.” He said, pulling Holly to sit next to him and sliding an arm around her shoulders. “What about your family? Are they all like us?”

“They were.” She said with finality. Stiles didn’t know whether to persist or not.

“So, can you give me a crash course in how to get this under control? Or even how it works?” He diverted after a moment. Holly tilted her head at him, almost leaning into his side.

“The more you accept what you are, the more you use your gifts, the more instinct it becomes. There’s no set list of things you can or cannot do. It’s all guided by what is needed at the moment. We’re strongest when we’re helping people. When there’s someone in need, our bodies react.” She sat up a little straighter, turning to face him and talking with her hands. “It doesn’t always have to be someone in life or death danger, it could just be someone having a bad day or going through an emotional struggle. We’re a good natured species.” She paused to let it sink in.

“Why did you turn into a wolf?” he asked, voicing the thing that had been puzzling him since the beginning.

“We have spirit animals. I, like you, spent time around werewolves as a child. My brother was married to one. They were mates. It was one of those, meant to be/written in the stars kind of things. They had children and my spirit animal clung to that. It can change, but it takes something huge.”

“Wait, mates? We can mate with wolves? How does that work?” He quirked a brow.

“We, guardians, have mates just as well as wolves do. It’s because of the love-sacrifice-caring-nature thing. I’m still not sure how it works, to be honest. I’m still just playing it by ear. Like I said, we’re instinctual, so aside from the big stupid rules, there’s nothing really set in stone.”

“And… what are the big stupid rules?”

“Think of them like the ten commandments from the bible, except we actually have to follow them or bad things happen.” Holly’s face became grave. “There are only a handful, but they are so vital to our existence.”

“Rule one: Never kill an innocent soul. Rule Two: Never use your gifts with malicious intent. Rule Three: Do not enable a Guardian without cause. Rule Four: Do not make show or spectacle of your gifts. Rule Five: Care for all things, mortal, supernatural, dead or alive.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. “That’s just paraphrasing. Basically, Don’t kill anyone, Don’t be an evil dickhead, Don’t spill the beans about your powers to become rich or famous, and don’t be subjective to who you help, because everyone deserves help. You do what’s best.”

“How will I know what’s best?”

“Again, instinctual.” She huffed.

“What about rule three? Do not enable a guardian without cause?” He said quizzically.

“That rule is kind of void most of the time, because there’s always someone in need of help. But there have been, in the past… People who went around kidnapping and brainwashing guardians as soon as they were awakened. They made an army of evil guardians, and it was nasty. No one really survived that. But, it’s ancient history.”

“That sounds lovely…So, is there anything else?” Stiles was praying that there wouldn’t be. He was already in over his head, holy shit.

“The Harvest Moon.” She nodded. “I almost forgot, I get off track so much.”

“I know the feeling. ADHD.” He snorted. She laughed, and it was cute. Hey.

“With the Nemeton up and running again attracting every goblin and beasty there ever was, we’re probably going to be working overtime, because I can’t imagine all of them are coming in peace.” She patted his knee. “And so now we have to get you ready for that.”

“Oh, whoopee!” Stiles didn’t sound enthused at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments, questions, or issues of concern? Mine all end in "SQUUUUEEEEEEE!!!"


	9. A Sneaking Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to rally the troops and make a plan. Then Derek happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, It's been years. I swear I'm the worst. I completely forgot this fic existed. I don't even know if I could do it justice, but I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn't finish it. So, I formally apologize for the 4-year cliffhanger. Let us continue this journey.

Stiles knew that something had to be done, but how in God's name did he expect to get the whole town under control on a Supernatural Peak Event with Prime Time Access and a full buffet of innocent humans to eat, when he could barely keep his own powers under control?   
His first thought instantly went to Derek. He felt addicted to his comforting touch. A week ago, he would have never thought that the idea of running into his arms would make him melt like a popsicle on a summer day, but here he was. Submitting. The fucker didn't even have to try. Stiles was already a goner.   
He had walked back quietly with Holly, apologizing for not being more chatty. He just couldn't wrap his mind around all the different pieces of the puzzle. He was used to being on the outside looking in. Now he was part of the problem; more than that, actually. He was the solution.   
When they walked back in, Cora was still sitting at the table, now eating pickles straight out of the jar. Stiles noted Jackson was nowhere to be found. He didn't need werewolf hearing to know that the slurping of a pregnant craving being indulged was too much to handle for any period of time.   
She nodded over the jar, speaking over a mouth full of pickle, "So, How'd it go? Are you a full blown magic master now?"  
Stiles gulped. "Far from it. I have to call a pack meeting. Where's Derek?"  
Cora shrugged, but there was no need for an answer. Stiles looked up at the doorway, taken aback by the sheer offense in the face of his favorite wolf. The gruff man had his arms tucked against his chest, his stance casual. "You can't tell them I'm here."  
Cora took this time to put down her pickle jar and stand up, pointing a single index finger at her brother. "You listen to me. I will not cower away from my friends and family in times of trouble, simply because you have social issues! I refuse. So, Stiles, you will call that pack meeting, and we will have it here."  
Stiles dropped his jaw, observing how maternal she had already become. He nodded and prepared to ring the bell. 

To: Scott  
yo. pack meeting. hale house. no questions.   
Derek didn't seem pleased by this decision, but also was void of defense, so he sulked away. Stiles figured he would back off for the moment. It was time to get down to business. To defeat the huns. Did they bring me daughters, when I asked for sons! Stupid Disney. Stupid ADHD.   
Scott replied and his phone went off. 

 

To: Stiles  
what r u talking ab? 

To: Stiles  
the hale house is gone

To: Scott  
i said no questions. come. bring the pack.

Stiles was unsure of what he was going to say to them, but he had to say something. Perhaps, now, thanks to Cora, they would be more distracted by the Hale drama than worried about the Harvest Moon, but unfortunately Stiles was still pretty damn worried about it.   
He had a bit of time, because rallying the troops was no easy feat. He knew that in the grocery run Jackson and Cora made, there was enough food to feed five armies, and all of it was junk food for Cora's cravings, so snacks were covered. Movies and entertainment were covered. Now, all Stiles needed to do was come up with a plan.   
This thought process led him to freak out, so he decided it would be a better idea to go check on Derek.   
He walked slowly up the stairs, wishing he could be invisible to the werewolf, so that somehow he could sneak up on him. He feared that if he heard him coming up the stairs he would hide or lock the door. But, to his surprise, when he reached Derek's room, he turned the knob and it wouldn't go. Not because it was locked, but because his hand went right through it.   
The only thing that made sense was to keep on going, so that's exactly what he did. He stumbled into the room, where Derek sat upright on the bed. He was looking at his phone. He was scrolling through pictures, face sadded. Stiles looked closer, over Derek's shoulder, but still he didn't know he was there. Perhaps he really was invisible, or maybe he was being ignored. Either way, Stiles was curious. He peeked a little further and then stopped short. He was looking down at all the selfies he had planted on Derek's phone the other day while he wasn't paying attention.   
That silly sappy wolf. Stiles put his hand on the man's shoulder, and suddenly he was pinned down on the bed with a hand on his throat.   
"I figured you liked it rough, but isn't it a little soon?" Stiles muffled out.   
Derek released his grip and swore. "What the fuck do you think you're doing sneaking up on people like that?"   
Stiles chuckled, "I think I have an invisibility cloak, but it's not really under my control."   
The older man sighed, "Not much is."  
Stiles took note of the position he was lying in. Derek, sprawled over him, pelvis to pelvis, his dark cotton shirt clinging to his frame. Stiles, looking helplessly up at him, longing for less distance.   
"You'll have to forgive me, it's never been in my nature to behave myself." And with that, Stiles leaned up and closed the space between him and his wolf, encapturing him and taming him with a fiery kiss, warm to the touch and healing to the soul.   
He melted into the moment, Derek folded against the pressure and the passion, welcoming and returning every grab, moan, and tease. They were reaching at the hems of each other's shirts, Stiles' head in the crook of Derek's neck making hickies that would heal as fast as he placed them, Derek was grinding his hips against Stiles', both hard and ready for action.   
However, different action was also being required at the same time. Stiles' phone was going off, and downstairs Scott and Jackson were in each other's faces, prepared to fight out their issues, Cora and Lydia were catting it up in the front yard, Aiden and Ethan we're doing parkour around the pool, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were arguing with Allison about whether or not she should even be there because of her past with the Hale's.   
Holly was running up the stairs, trying to warn them of the ensuing drama. Derek heard with his wolf hearing, and the moment was gone. He threw Stiles to the side and stood up in record speed. Stiles felt a little burned by that. "Are you ashamed of me?" He blurted.  
"Shut up, Stiles." He shook his head. "No, this is different."  
Stiles stood up and opened the door to see a shocked Holly.   
"It always is." He called back. "This isn't over."  
Derek smirked darkly. "You're damn right it's not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn't include the actual pack meeting. Just that one was called. It's kind of short, but I'm so tired and have work tomorrow. I will update again in the afternoon. I plan on finishing this in alternation with my Bellarke fanfic. But EEEEEEK. All good fun things happening anyhow. I'm excited to get this story back up and running. Gonna do some work under the hood and get it sounding pretty again.


	10. OHM.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pack drama, magic, harvest moons, and bad guys. Stiles has a lot to deal with now. It's very stressful. It makes a kid fiend for a cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOO. Super duper happy to get back in the swing of this and be writing consistently. It's been great to have Sterek feels. I'm going to be changing the direction of this fic here and there, but more or less just to keep us all on our toes.

It didn't take them long to clear the stairs and enter the angry pack mob. The situation from several minutes ago was nothing in comparison to the crowd of yelling teenagers in the livingroom.  
Once downstairs among the ensuing chaos, Stiles got in the middle of everyone, trying to carry on multiple conversations at once. He was referee to a band of angry supernatural creatures, but for once, he was more or less equipped to do such a thing.  
He paused for a second, trying to block out the sound of a cat-fight-bro-down-inter-pack-splosion. He focused on his breathing, and a slow tick started somewhere in the distance. It was a metronome to focus his energy through, however, it seemed to naturally flow through his heart, which ached for his friends to be at peace.  
In real life, everyone began to turn their attention to Stiles, who was posed with two hands together, elbows taught, feet apart, like a prayer stance. He had a yellow, wispy light filling the space around him, projecting a bubble around all of the people standing in his presence.  
They quieted, looked at each other, and started to hug one another and apologize. The strange thing was, they truly felt that way. Their own experiences with each other flooded through their minds and an overwhelming sense of love and safety and trust began to flow through each member of the pack.  
After a moment, Stiles stopped, guessing the silence was a sign of success.  
"Did it work?" He asked, peeking one eye open to see a flat face from Derek, who was leaning on Scott in a kind show of brotherhood.  
"I don't know how, but for once you didn't fuck up. Congratulations." The older man called, his face showing nothing but pride.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Now that we're all on the same page, we have some things to discuss." Stiles said, pointing to his chart. He'd fished a little notepad and a pen out of his dusty, unused school bag, and he'd made it the designated drawing board for Operation Harvest Moon, or OHM for short. He referenced it when discussing all of his research, plans, and preparation to do lists.  
He had assigned everybody a job, some way that they could help move the plans forward. The basic idea was to make Beacon Hills inner city into a safe haven, put protections on all the borders, magical and military. Next, they were to set up the forest around the Nematon to be ground zero for battle.  
Each would join Stiles in his journey to dive deeper into their abilities, to become more aware of the power and energy they could all draw from each other and from themselves. Stiles paused at the thought, "Guys... I need to be real for a second."  
He shook his head, unsure how to continue. At this point, everyone had perceived the threat they were up against. They were all eyes and focused on Stiles, who had grown a new type of leadership style in his transformation as a Guardian. He focused on each and every one of them, sending them a message of hope and potential power.  
"We need to be stronger." He breathed slow, wanting to soak in the moment. "The one thing that the enemy has always had over us, is that every time they come, they nearly destroy us. We rebuild, we survive, but in the end, it takes a part of us and breaks us down. We stay in the dark, we stay afraid. We don't need to be afraid anymore. "  
He threw the notebook on the coffee table and threw his hands up. "We need to be ready."  
Not a single person said a word.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
There wasn't much else to talk about regarding the evil nonsense out in the world after their meeting. And they all really just needed something good in their lives. They needed one last night before the storm hit, before they all turned into stressed-out-war-ready-badasses. Which, when you haven't gotten the chance to be a normal kid since your freshman year, really starts to suck. Especially when you can see it coming.  
So, in lue of the recent discoveries, everyone decided to get as fucked up as possible. Except for Cora, of course, who stuck to sparkling cider in a champagne glass.  
Lydia dug up some balloons, and made a cake from a Betty Crocker box in the pantry. She spent the time chatting with the pregnant wolf and actually started to warm up to her and the idea that Jackson had moved on and been happy in his life.  
Jackson spent most of the time taking shots with Danny, Ethan, and Aiden. They were a pretty well along group of guys. Isaac and Allison had gone home to sleep before their science test. Erica and Boyd had more than likely gone off somewhere to get in some hanky-panky, and Scott was hunched over the kitchen table with Derek, both low speaking as if they weren't surrounded by a bunch of folks with superhuman hearing, but who was he to judge.  
Stiles sat watching, floating around them, just basking in the glory of his people brought together. It meant something different now, than it did before. It was homey. He didn't feel like fighting for his life would be so scary anymore, as long as he was fighting for and alongside these guys, he would be okay. Somehow, they would pull through.  
He decided it was about time for something he never did. But, he had a few drinks of Derek's oldest bourbon in him and that gave him a little bit of bravery.  
He was going outside for a cigarette.  
Full disclosure, Stiles didn't smoke. But, every now and again, he needed a smoke break.  
It was a horrible habit he picked up at fourteen, when the depression about his mom really set in. He felt like a shit son, and an even worse human being. He just couldn't get things right. So, once in a while, when things got rough, he would sneak out onto the window and smoke one of the cigarettes.  
The pack he found was in a box of things that belonged to his mother. It was full. He knew his dad probably saved it and that it probably meant a lot to him. But Stiles also thought that was a shitty way to remember things.  
He walked outside, feeling the cool air, basking in the humidity from the pool. It was low lit and a deep turquoise. He chuckled to himself drunkenly, "What kind of douchebag dyes his pool water?"  
Derek laughed in response, coming out of the cracked doorway into the night. "What kind of asshole would point that out?"  
Stiles snorted. "The smart kind."  
He fumbled for the carton resting comfortably in his pocket, where it stayed most of the time in case of emergency. Sidenote: Stiles had an insane amount of self-restraint when it came to nicotine. But, this one night, it was for aesthetic.  
He pulled out one from the far right side and organized them all again. Since he was fourteen, he'd smoked thirteen cigarettes. He had seven left. One lucky.  
Derek scoffed. "You smoke?"  
Stiles shook his head, checking his pockets for a lighter. He looked at Derek and mimed flicking one, and he shook his head to symbolise he didn't have one. Stiles smirked, popping the cigarette in his mouth, then holding up his thumb and index finger. He focused on how bad he wanted to be able to understand his own nature, how much he wanted to protect his friends, how much he needed to break through the awkward phase of the magic. He snapped his fingers and a spark lit the end of the paper, allowing him to take a long, celebratory drag.  
He raised his eyebrows at Derek who was watching in an irritated awe.  
Stiles decided a change of subject would be best. "Did you get jealous of Holly earlier?" Derek seemed blindsided by this, his face a wheel of emotions. He was so easy to read. Stiles nodded enthusiastically. "I see."  
Derek just crossed the space between them and kissed Stiles right then and there. No hesitation. He pulled away from it, eyes serious. "I don't get jealous."  
Stiles tisked. "Could've fooled me."  
Derek grabbed his ass, moving his lips to whisper in Stiles' ear. "Anybody who wants you, has to go through me. And that isn't gonna happen." He released his grip and walked away a few steps, waving his hand in front of his face.  
Stiles had been dancing with his cigarette trying not to burn himself or his lover, but through all efforts, he still failed when he knocked the cherry out somehow.  
"Now look what you did. It's never as good when you have to relight it." Stiles sighed, and tried to snap his fingers again, but this time he couldn't focus.  
Derek crossed his arms in disapproval. "Why do you want to smoke that shit anyway?"  
Stiles opened his mouth to reply, but he started to cough. It started slow at first, as if he'd just inhaled too quickly or something, but then it became harsher, more heave and less air. In a matter of seconds, it had transformed into a full on vomit session.  
Stiles ran to the bushes to puke with dignity, but Derek was right there, rubbing his back and comforting him. Damn, Derek.  
After he finished chucking up his insides, he tried to stand up straight, instead he felt sort of dizzy. He began to fall, his vision blacked out, and everything went still.  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
There were strong winds in the trees, loud sounds of armies marching, torches through the darkness moving in groups, people screaming, sounds of beasts from all the corners of the earth. Headed at the front of these, a woman. She was dressed in flowing fabric and beads, surrounded by hundreds of geese. She marched with the armies, wildly leading their path of chaos through the night.  
Stiles stood, a lifetime away from the hallowed scene. He was back in his bedroom, the voices of his friends humming loudly around him, they chanted, "ohm, ohm, ohm, ohm, ohm.." Their volumes increased with every repetition, until they were so high frequency that Stiles could feel it pulsing in his entire body.  
He became thinner in existence and matter, his cells began to transform into pure light, and his skin felt like it was as fiery and bright as the sun.  
His vision disappeared once more, into a solid white space. He recognized it from his time spent in other realms. He saw the Nematon before him, with an added feature. A well, placed right in the center, and reflecting in the water was the Harvest moon.  
There were ripples in the water and a heavy thunk from behind him. He turned to find a gremlin running across the room, then disappearing out of sight. He faced the well again, and standing over it was a girl, half his age, carrying a bow, with butterfly wings and intent to kill. She aimed to shoot and he ducked, but when he sneaked around the side to try and take her out, she was gone.  
He started to get very concerned that he would never get out of this place. He began to search for an exit. He looked into the well and prayed. "If you're listening, get me out of here."  
He did not know to whom he spoke, but he knew he had faith in finding a way out.  
Suddenly, a hand reached up from the center of the moon's reflection and pulled him into the well. The world flipped upside down, and on the other side was Lydia. She whispered to him softly, as though she didn't want to be heard. She sounded as though she were far away, "They're coming, Stiles."  
Stiles began to see light all around, bits of the dream shattering. Only her voice remained as he fluttered into consciousness, "You're their only hope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Where will we go from here? What other goodies do I have in store for you? Stay tuned as the continuation continues! 
> 
> 8.30.17 update, CHAPTERS WILL BE COMING REGULARLY. I wanted to post last night but had internet issues. Working on being able to post tonight.


	11. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just an update to the audience on what has gone down and will go down in the future.

This chapter will be a quick author's note, but mostly in the form of an interesting tale:  
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved to write. She grew up and fell in love with a show. She took her love of this show and began to express it through her writing.   
As life went on, things got more enticing in the outside world, and she took a step back to learn about the way things work.   
Now, with an entirely new style and perspective on writing, the little girl is all grown up. But amazingly, the show she loved and the feelings she felt still continue. And so I say, after many long years, if not for those who begged me not to end it, then for myself, it is time to pick up the torch once again.   
However, The show and the girl have transformed entirely in the long time since beginning this fanfiction. So, I will be taking it in a completely new direction, while also trying to seamlessly fit it into the plot I started back in the day. I want to stay true to the message and understandings I had at the time. I simply want to merge it with what I know now.   
I plan on dropping the dead weight of the characters and storylines that I don't particularly care for.   
There will be some major character deaths/disappearances, but they will not go out without a proper send off, I promise you that.   
I will be bringing Stiles and the gang slowly up to speed, skipping over most of seasons four and five, but grabbing six by the tits and twisting until it says, "Uncle."   
I want to get more into the mystical side of The Wild Hunt and away from the Cowboy Kidnapper feeling.   
I will be introducing some characters from plots I don't want to keep in different ways, so we really are just going off the rails.   
And the reason I say this and put these notes here is because for anyone who may have recently found this fiction, or those who have kept up after all this time,   
A captain goes down with her ship. I started this and I will finish it.   
You, as a willingly participating audience, are not obligated to see out the end of the journey with me, but as always are more than welcome. Please, allow me your suggestions, questions, comments, crisis, or issues of concern, as feedback is the only way I truly know if I've succeeded in my mission.   
Thank you for your patience, understanding, kindness, and most of all,  
Thank you for taking part in this story with me thus far. It means the world.   
Yours Truly, Hannah.  
P.S. I had internet issues at my old house, but luckily I'm moving out this weekend so regular updates will conclude after the Labor Day Weekend. I already have stuff written, just need to post.


	12. The Woman of Your Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles experiments with non-reality, and then discovers there is not a difference between that and real life. It's all confusing and it's all chaos, and they're still damned if they don't try. 
> 
> AKA The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU GUYS. THANK YOU FOR STILL READING. 
> 
> If you guys have any fanfics out there that need reading, let me know. I like Teen Wolf, TVD, The Originals, iZombie, The 100, Supernatural, pretty much anything that's fantasy and non-reality. Don't really have much preference past that point. I'm all in the market though for helping out my fellow writers. 
> 
> I mostly just don't have time to go searching for myself either, so bring it onnnnn. Show me what you got. *Insert Big Head From Rick&Morty*

Stiles woke to a face hovering over him; truth be told, he flinched all the way into the mattress so hard that he bounced back into Derek's rock solid body. He struggled for a moment and then relaxed, rubbing his eyes and mumbling, "This is the worst way to wake someone up..."  
Derek huffed and got up, pacing across the room. "No, wanna know what's worse than waking up like that? Waking up to the man next to you in bed mumbling about a woman in his dreams."  
Stiles sat straight up in bed, playing aimlessly with his pillow. He contemplating throwing it at the childish, jealous wolf, but he only figured it would make things worse. In love and war, the truth will out. Or something like that.  
"It was a vision." He sighed, letting out a shaky groan. "It was a warning."  
"And this woman told you that?" Derek asked, his tone slightly raising.  
"Kind of? Lydia actually said it, but it was another woman I saw. She was in this flowy dress thing and there were a bunch of obnoxious birds with her." Stiles recounted, not thinking about the implication of his words.  
Derek stopped pacing and caught Stiles' eye in a dead stare. "You dreamt about two women." He shook his head and started to walk out of the room. "Two.." he muttered lowly to himself.  
"It's not like that. Wait-" Stiles began, reaching an arm out, but not feeling the true need to follow the slightly selfish notion. He had more important things to worry about, like, uhm, not dying.  
"Tell it to the woman in the flowy dress, Stiles." Derek called back, huffing and puffing and blowing the house all the way down the stairs.  
Stiles was left to soak in the remaining bits of his dreams. He thought back to the forest. To the woman leading the army. He felt as though he knew her in some other life. There was something keeping his spirits up about the whole situation. He got a very Princess Leah vibe from her. The geese were a little strange, but what wasn't at this point in the game.  
He had a lot of training to do. He needed to get with Holly and come up with some kind of plan. He hadn't seen her around since the day they went to the garden. She seemed to have slipped out a back door somewhere and hadn't shown her face. Basically, she left Stiles up shit's creek without a paddle and no way of navigating through this onset of insane amounts of responsibility.  
Way to go, Super-Secret-Guardian-Society. Keeping everybody in the loop. Five stars.  
He was going to have to do some digging.  
He crossed his legs and positioned his feet in the proper pretzel position in order to meditate like a badass. Stiles used to impress his friends with his flexibility in middle school, and apparently still had it in him.  
He put his hands up in little O's, index finger to thumb and rested his wrists on his knees. He closed his eyes and straightened his back, taking long, deep breaths. He found the flow behind his eyelids, focusing on the shapes, colors, and images that sort of danced and flashed through his headspace.  
Such a strange feeling, to explore the consciousness, but Stiles needed answers, so this would have to become a non-issue. He waited until the static cleared in his mental picture and he saw plainly in his mind a ladder. Hand over hand, foot over foot, rung after rung, he climbed to the top. After a slight surge of energy, he reached the top and emerged into a library.  
The shelves were so high that you couldn't see the tops; skyscrapers upon skyscrapers, monuments and cities of books and paintings and records and timeloops and memories. A complete documentation of universal history, lain out before his eager and hungry eyes.  
People from every walk of time were lounging about, reading along to their hearts desires. An indian man dressed in ancient robes peddled a bike from another century, browsing the pages of a book whilst riding through the streets. An actual knight in shining armor running down the stairs of a monument chasing flying paper and scrolls, that then turned around and started to beat him over the head.  
Perhaps, he was attempting to take a lesson in humility.  
A teenage girl in neon-denim-crossover outfit sat with her knees to her chest, nose deep in a hardback cover. Her hair was frizzed like she lived in the eighties. Or, rather, lives.  
Here time was different; all of consciousness shares this library, and those within it share their existences and timeframes as one unit of understanding.  
Stiles shook his awe at the perplexing world he had found and focused on the task at hand. He tried to reach for a book closest to him, perched on a pedestal with a glowing light surrounding its outer edges, but it floated away from his hand and soared around his head several times, casting him in a sparkling blue light. Suddenly, all of the books and objects in the city began to glow and form a tornado around his figure.  
None of the bystanders seemed to notice this and soon enough they faded into wisps of silver. He felt the whoosh of the air, the cool breeze of the energy, and an overwhelming rush of lightness filled him. He felt as though he were a sponge, and he was weighed down but weightless all at once; soaking in the information, drenching his spirit in the past, present, and future understandings.  
He was changing. He was shifting into a space of higher vibration. His grip on the ground was slipping. Back in reality, Stiles was keeping up a low hum of "ohm, ohm, ohm, ohm..." But there were disturbances in the house that were going to put his focus in danger.  
He placed a border between him and his body, keeping peace between the split in perceptions; a single chord attached to the base of his spine kept him from drifting too far off.  
His physical felt like a raging fire, but his mental was a strong, ocean wave crashing onto the shore of his own visions.  
He began to see a bunch of construed images, all seeming to relate to his life, but also seeming so unfamiliar in this scene. He called out a name, somehow it floated off of his tongue like he'd known it all his life, "Nicnevin..."  
Stiles was not prepared for what happened next.  
He just was not. 

There he was. Face down. In the dirt. In the middle of the forest. In the middle of the night. In the middle of a circle of fire. 

This could not be good.  
It just could not be. 

He sighed, pushing up off the dirt. Stiles wondered irately to himself about just a few things: how it had become night-time again so soon, how he had gotten out of the bed and onto the ground in the first place, and why the fuck was it so hot.  
He didn't take too much longer to ponder those things, because soon they became replaced by the fear of one simple fact. He was not alone.  
"You." He spat, turning around and stumbling upon(almost into) the most gorgeous, yet evil creature on the planet. The woman from his dream. There, in what felt like, looked like, smelled like, sounded like, and seemed like the closest thing to reality he could find right now.  
"You." She mimicked, nodding her head as she curtseyed. She giggled, her stature and build appearing older and lethal, but her voice and disposition being younger and more innocent.  
"What do you want here? Why bring the army?" He shook his index finger at her, stepping closer. He sized her up quietly. She stood still, as if allowing him to oggle.  
She had long, dark hair tucked under a geometric fabric, a soft face and almond eyes. Beneath the translucent cover over her shoulders was a long, white chain dress that had ruffles that fell like waterfalls. Literally. They seemed to pour back into each other and never end. Then geese, big and fluffy ones, began to fly up out of the material and into the sky.  
Stiles had never seen something so marvelous. This woman was deadly. He knew it. He closed his mouth, stood up straight, and held his finger out once more. "Enough. You need to go."  
She smiled, placing a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "I haven't yet come."  
He smirked, removing her hand and shaking his head. "I don't remember sending out the invite."  
Nicnevin laughed, long and hard and bright. It rang like bells through the trees. The fires danced with the tune of it. Stiles felt warm and delighted at it. "If only it was your party."  
This time, the goddess shook her head. "I bring only wishes and chaos. You cannot have one without the other, and that is a divine order even I cannot challenge."  
She turned around, beginning to walk towards the shadows of the trees. "Enjoy your Harvest Moon, Stiles. It will be good."  
She left the space with a twinkling giggle, "I'll see you again on Halloween."  
~~~~~~~  
The door burst open and Stiles opened his eyes. Startled, he flopped out of his meditating position. He was back in the room, where Derek had woken him out of the dream. He wasn't one hundred percent sure about that, but the two gruff werewolf-gripping hands shaking him senseless was a clue that maybe not all was well.  
"Stiles, Thank God you're back to reality." It wasn't Derek. Not even close. Jackson. "We have a problem."  
His eyes were burning and the house was shaking, even though Jackson had let go of Stiles. "The baby is coming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? Is it coming along like you had all hoped? I'm having so much funnnnnnnnn. I would super love some feedback. Lots of Kudos and Hits, but no comments since I've started updating. Who's out there? Anyone with me?


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